


Get out.

by sarinoxious



Series: Torture Shorts [5]
Category: Septic egos, jacksepticeye, jse egos - Fandom
Genre: Bugs, Drowning, Gen, Gore, I AM SORRY, Self Harm, Snakes, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarinoxious/pseuds/sarinoxious
Summary: The witch is as wicked as his imagination is limitless.The glitch likes to keep it real. Cold sharp metal leaves traces and scars. When he’s done, wounds burn and blood covers the floor. Finger-shaped bruises stain my neck, arms, and shoulders, they fit his hands perfectly. All of it evidence of his presence.But when the witch takes his claws from my head, he takes everything except for the shame. Salt stains under red puffy eyes, claw marks that match the blood and skin under my nails. My skull throbs where it met the wall or floor with force, but no trace of the hands that forced it. Hair is tangled around my fingers, torn out of my scalp by force. I’m drowned, burned, covered in acid and eaten by rats, but none of it stays. It’s not real, not really.If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?





	Get out.

When I wake up, his presence has already occupied my head. My lungs fill with water and I gasp for air, but I’ve never been thirstier in my life. I writhe on the floor, opening and closing my mouth like a fish on dry land. My eyes are too big for their sockets, and I squeeze my eyelids shut to keep them from popping out. A soft chuckle escapes from the corner of my cell before the illusion fades. I can breathe, I can open my eyes. I can feel my intestines pulsing, slithering like venomous serpents, and manage to struggle onto hands and feet before my empty stomach squeezes together, forcing bile and acid and snakes out through my throat. Good morning.

I barely get time to catch my breath before the next wave hits and I fall back against the wall. I try to claw at him but he skips just out of my reach. An idea, a solution breaks through my head and I claw at my chest and throat instead, I can take the water out that way, I can regain my breath that way. I scratch my skin to shreds, blood and cells collecting under my nails. I don’t think about the consequences, there are no consequences, there’s only the water in my chest and it needs to get out **out OUT**.

“Wh͜at a̡r̡e͞ you̧ doi̶n͜g ̷to͟ i̢t̢,͝ Ma͢rv? ̛I̵t͏’͏s not͞ e̴ven͝ screa̷m͞in̕g,҉ w͝h͟e͏r̨e̶’̸s͠ t̸he̴ f͜u̷n͞ ̸i̸n ͜that͜?”

The water dissipates, and I remain on the floor, panting, nails still dug into my neck. I turn to my side, and I can see the other one leaned against the cell door. Arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, a smirk playing around his lips, breaking into a disgusted curl as he looks down on me.

I do this to myself, really. My mind is soft and malleable for the witch. I’m weak, feeble, worthless, powerless. My only value is my usefulness to them. Their pet, their toy, their puppet, their subject. To experiment on, to play with, to prod and to poke until my blood cools and my heart stills. But the wheel won’t stop turning and I draw in another breath and the cycle begins anew.

Marvin says nothing, he just twists one of his rings while he stares off into the distance, considering and rejecting ideas, until…

Bugs start crawling out of _everywhere_. Nasty bugs with too many legs, too many eyes. I jerk up, scramble onto my feet. I clench my lips together, squeeze my eyelids shut and cover my ears with my hands as insects with wings fly up and start looking for a way in. 

I’m shoved, and two cold hands wrap around my wrists, pulling them off my ears and pinning them to the wall behind me. Gruesome crunches are the first thing I hear as exoskeletons are crushed against my back, leaving their slimy remains on my shirt. Bugs in my hair, on my face, clamber into my ears and I open my eyes and I _scream._ I can barely make out two crinkled green eyes before bugs cover my eyes, digging their way into my tear ducts. They settle under my tongue, in between my teeth, crawl into my throat. My head is banged into the wall as I thrash to try and shake them off, spit them out, but the bugs are persistent and the glitch’s grip is like iron.

Cold steel slides over my arms, flaying my veins open, and more bugs wiggle into the slits, swimming through my veins, nesting in my muscles, my gut, under my skin. My throat is raw from screaming by the time the critters under my skull drown out my howls.

My wrists are freed and I bury my hands in my hair, alternating between pulling out hair and pushing in in _in crush the bugs crush the bugs in your brain they’re under your skull get. them. **OUT.**_

The spell breaks, the bugs vanish, and my screams die out, their exhilarated laughter taking over the room. I have hair in my hands, patches of bloodied skin attached. My head aches where I’ve bashed it into the wall, blood slowly drools from two incisions in my arms. My throat is raspy and hoarse and I taste blood.

They’re also wheezing, but for completely different reasons. supporting themselves and each other, tears in their eyes, inches from rolling over the ground with laughter.

Shame washes over me as I slump against the wall, too exhausted to notice that I’m standing in my own filth.

“Remind me to record that next time.”

His invisible tendrils of magic retreat, they take my mind and leave a hollow twin, and I’m left alone, with nothing but shame.

He’s improved a lot since then. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this idea for a while, and a recent encounter with possible sleep paralysis along with the song Water by Jack Garratt birthed... this.


End file.
